Get Smart 3 - Get Smart Once Again!

by William Johnston

  The man shook his head. “Not likely. You hardly ever see a taxi in a freight office. Try down at the corner at the taxi stand.”

  “Thank you,” Max said.

  “You’re welcome. Just pile them peaches in a corner of the office here. I’ll count ’em later.”

  Max and Peaches left the freight office and walked to the corner. A taxi was standing at the taxi stand. Max and Peaches got in. Then Max addressed the driver, a plump man who looked like a typical taxi driver.

  “Take us to the pier,” Max said.

  The driver turned in the seat to face them. “Would you like to check your ballpoint pen first?” he said,

  “Noman!” Peaches shrieked.

  Max pulled his pistol and aimed it at the driver. “Don’t make a move!”

  But the driver stuck a finger into the end of the barrel. “You’re disarmed, Smart!” he snarled viciously.

  “Not quite!” Max replied, reaching for his ballpoint pen.

  But, as Max reached, the driver jumped from the cab and raced off down the street.

  “Get him, Max!” Peaches screeched.

  Max aimed the pen. He pressed the button. A tiny motor made whirring sounds.

  Peaches groaned.

  “You’re right,” Max said. “I doubt that I could dry his hair at this distance.”

  “He got away,” Peaches lamented. “What now?”

  “He got away, yes. But his cab didn’t,” Max said. “We’ll simply commandeer this taxi and drive ourselves to the pier.”

  “Do you know the way?”

  “The cab probably knows the way,” Max said, getting in behind the wheel. “Cabs have a sixth sense about such things.”

  Peaches got into the rear seat, and Max started the engine and drove off.

  As the cab reached the corner and Max stopped for a traffic signal, they heard a voice.

  “Now, hear this,” the voice said. “This is Noman speaking!”

  Max looked around, perplexed. “Where are you?”

  “You’re hearing me over a speaker in the cab,” the voice replied. “I’m in another car, talking to you from here. I am also operating your taxi by remote control.”

  “That’s hard to believe,” Max said.

  “Would you believe, then, that I’m operating your taxi by pull-string?”

  “I don’t even believe that you’re in control of our taxi,” Max replied.

  “The proof is in the pudding,” the voice said. “I’ll drive you right through that red light.”

  “That, I’d like to see,” Max smirked.

  The taxi lunged forward and crossed the intersection, ignoring the traffic light.

  “Now, you’re in trouble!” Max said. “You just broke a traffic law!”

  “Fiddle-dee-dee,” the voice said, “What’s important is, do you believe me now?”

  Max nodded. “I believe you. You are operating this taxi by remote control. But, the question is, what will it get you?”

  “The Dooms Day Plan,” the voice answered.

  “I don’t think so,” Max replied. “Peaches and I would risk our lives to keep that Plan. If you’ll keep an eye on the taxi, in just a second you’ll see us throw ourselves out the doors.”

  “That would be risky!” the voice said, dismayed. “Fortunately for you, you can’t do it. If you were at all observant, you would have noticed that you’re in the same taxi that I used to pick you up in that deserted section of town early this morning.”

  “In other words, we’re sealed in?”

  “Right. And this time you don’t have a parachute to use as a brake.”

  “However, we do have an ejection seat,” Max replied. “I recall that you used it this morning.”

  “But I had a parachute.”

  “Do you think the lack of a parachute will stop us?” Max said.

  “It’ll stop me!” Peaches said.

  “It’ll stop her,” the voice said.

  “Gossip!” Max snapped.

  “Are you interested in the alternative?” the voice asked.

  “Not particularly,” Max replied. “But I will listen. What is it?”

  “You don’t have to listen.”

  “Yes, I do. I’m a captive audience,” Max replied. “Now what’s the alternative?”

  “How does this sound?” the voice said. “By remote control, I’ll drive the taxi toward the nearest overpass. Meanwhile, you place the Plan on the driver’s seat. As the taxi approaches the underpass, you will activate the ejection seat. That will fire the Plan into the air. I will be waiting on top of the overpass to catch it. And the taxi will proceed under the overpass. After that, I’ll disconnect my remote control, and you’ll be able to drive the taxi wherever you want to.”

  “Let me get that straight,” Max said. “I’ll drive the taxi over the underpass, and you’ll—”

  “No, no, under the overpass.”

  “Yes, that’s right—you’ll be under the overpass, waiting for me to put the taxi in overdrive and fire the ejection seat over . . . no, make that under . . . under . . . no, scratch that . . . over the under . . . would you repeat that, please?”

  “You’re stalling. You’re not that dumb, Smart.”

  “Right—got it. I drive the taxi over the underdumb, and you’ll be waiting with an overdone ejection seat.”

  “You have one second to make a choice, Smart!”

  “How can I make a choice? You didn’t tell me the other alternative.”

  “Oh. Sorry about that. The other alternative is a dunk in the Potomac.”

  “I think this is where I came in,” Max said.

  “No, this is where you go out. All the way out. Your taxi is headed for the Potomac. Unless you agree to hand over the Plan, you’re headed straight for the bottom.”

  “All right, Noman,” Max said. “I’ll give you my answer in just a second. But, in the meantime, will you do me one favor? Will you tell me where the speaker is hidden?”

  “That’s top secret,” the voice replied.

  “Would it be this thing on the control panel that looks like a speaker?” Max asked.

  “Don’t touch that!” the voice cried.

  “Ah-ha!”

  Max raised his foot and jammed his heel through the speaker.

  “Now say something!” he challenged.

  “Peep!” said the speaker.

  “That fixed it!” Max said to Peaches. “It’s out of order. Noman’s means of communication with the taxi has been destroyed.”

  “How does that help?” Peaches asked.

  “I won’t have his voice barking at me, and I can concentrate on how to get out of this fix,” Max replied. “I was getting an idea, but he kept babbling at me, and the idea kept slipping away.” He frowned thoughtfully. “Let’s see—what was my idea?”

  “I don’t think it matters much, Max,” Peaches said. “We’re still headed for the Potomac.”

  “Yes, he’s still driving the car by remote control.”

  “Max, let’s give up,” Peaches said.

  “Up! That’s it!” Max said. “That’s my idea! We’ll pop ourselves ‘up’ into the air.”

  “You mean the ejection seat?”

  “Exactly.”

  “But we don’t have a parachute. We’ll be killed in the fall.”

  “Long before that, I imagine,” Max said. “It’s only spring now. We’d hit the ground long before fall. That is—unless!”

  “Unless what?”

  Max took oil his shoe and dialed.

  Chief: Back in town again, Max?

  Max: Not again, still. Chief, do you have a whirly-bird handy?

  Chief: Just a second, Max. I’ll look in the canary’s cage. It sometimes has strange visitors.

  Max: Hold it, Chief. I’m referring to a helicopter.

  Chief: Oh. Yes, I have a helicopter handy, Max.

  Max: Does it have a large net hanging below it, Chief?

  Chief: No.

  Max: Too bad. I h
ad a great idea.

  Chief: But we could hang a large net below it, Max. Would that somehow help?

  Max: Chief, I think you’ve saved our lives. I want you to send the helicopter up over the city. And, uh, don’t forget the net.

  Chief: Then what, Max?

  Max: Tell the pilot to look for a speeding taxi that is headed straight for the Potomac. When he spots it, tell him to hover over it.

  Chief: Got it, Max. Hover over.

  Max: I’ll take it from there, Chief.

  Chief: I hope you know what you’re doing, Max.

  Operator: Me, too. He’s wearing our shoe.

  Max: Stay out of this, Operator.

  Operator: All right. But no more kicking in speakers with our shoe. You scuffed it.

  Max: Sorry about that.

  Max put his shoe back on. “Get set,” he said to Peaches.

  “Take care of your shoe,” she said.

  Max stared at her. “You, too!”

  “I own stock in the Telephone Company,” she explained.

  Max cocked an ear. “I hear a helicopter. That was fast work.”

  “Max! I’m afraid!”

  “There’s no time for that,” Max said. “Now, do just exactly as I say.”

  “I can’t! I’m afraid.”

  “Since there’s only one ejection seat,” Max said, “I want you to come up here and sit on my lap.”

  “I can’t. I’m—Oh . . . that’s different. That’s romantic.”

  Peaches climbed into the front seat and settled on Max’s lap.

  “Ready?” he said.

  “Do we have to rush?” Peaches asked. “This is the first really romantic thing that’s happened to me since I became an empty-headed blonde. Why spoil it?”

  Max cupped a hand around his ear. “I can’t hear you over the roar of the helicopter motor!”

  “I say, ‘This is neat!’ ” Peaches screamed.

  Max nodded. “Right—I’ll activate the seat!”

  Max pulled the ejection lever, the roof of the cab slid back, and the seat, Max and Peaches rocketed into the air.

  They shot past the helicopter.

  “Higher!” Max shouted at the pilot.

  The helicopter hurried after them as they zoomed higher.

  “Nice view from up here,” Max said to Peaches. “Look—the people appear to be so small that they look like ants.”

  Peaches looked down. “Those are ants, Max.”

  “Oh . . . yes. The people must be the big ones, then. I thought there for a moment that we were being invaded by a race of giants.”

  They reached the apex of their flight, hesitated in mid-air, then plummeted downward. A second later they passed the helicopter.

  “Lower!” Max shouted at the pilot.

  The helicopter hurried after them as they hurtled downward.

  “Max, if we’re higher than the helicopter, how will the helicopter catch us in that net—since the net is below the helicopter?” Peaches asked.

  “That will be a problem,” Max said. “I suspect the pilot will have to execute a deft maneuver.”

  At that very moment, the pilot executed a deft maneuver, catching Max and Peaches in the net. Then, Peaches and Max climbed the rope ladder and joined the pilot in the cockpit of the plane.

  “Magnificent!” Max said to the pilot.

  “Thanks to you, Max,” the pilot said. “I didn’t know what to do until I heard you suggest that deft maneuver.”

  “It was the only thing to do,” Max said.

  “Where to now?” the pilot asked.

  “To the pier,” Max replied.

  “I can’t land there,” the pilot replied. “There isn’t space.”

  “Then drop us at my car,” Max said. “It’s parked outside Control headquarters.”

  “Right-o!”

  “Drop us?” Peaches said to Max.

  Max turned back to the pilot. “Scratch that,” he said. “Make it ‘land us’ at my car.”

  “Right-o!”

  A few minutes later, the helicopter landed in the street beside Max’s car. Max and Peaches thanked the pilot again, then got out and walked to the car.

  “I thought you said your car had a bug in it,” Peaches said.

  “It does. But it’s safe unless you slam the door. Just don’t slam the door.”

  “I’ll try to remember that. But, you know me, I’m just an empty-headed blonde.”

  Max and Peaches got into the car. But instead of starting the engine, Max took off his shoe.

  “Reporting in again?” Peaches asked.

  “Yes. The Chief worries when I ask him to send a helicopter to circle over a cab that’s headed straight for the Potomac and don’t tell him why.”

  Max dialed.

  Chief: Max? Is that you? Are you safe?

  Operator: Never mind about him. How’s our shoe?

  Max: I am fine. Peaches is fine. And the shoe is fine.

  Chief: Max, why did you want that helicopter?

  Max: I had to activate an ejection seat, Chief, to get out of that cab. And I wanted the helicopter and the net to be there when we were shot into the air.

  Operator: Eeeeek! Our shoe! It could’ve been killed!

  Max: Operator, will you get off the line, please!

  Operator: Was it frightened, poor thing?

  Max: No, the shoe was the calmest of the three of us. Now, please, get off the line!

  Chief: Just ignore her, Max. Incidentally, where are you now?

  Max: Parked out in front of Control headquarters, Chief.

  Chief: Out front! Max, you left here early this morning headed for New York, Moscow and Peking, and that’s as far as you’ve got?

  Max: Chief, I think I detect an undercurrent of chagrin in your tone.

  Chief: I don’t know why. Frankly, Max, I’m surprised you’ve managed to get that far. I didn’t think you’d make it out the secret exit. You know how you always get lost down there.

  Max: Shall we talk about happier things, Chief?

  Chief: For instance?

  Max: Well, right now, we’re going to drive straight to the pier and board an excursion boat for New York. We might think about a bon voyage party.

  Chief: That wouldn’t be proper, Max. You’re on duty.

  Max: That’s right—it wouldn’t be proper. I forgot about Rule 707: Never mix business with pleasure.

  Chief: That’s Rule 303, Max. Rule 707 is: Never lose your parachute, or it’ll come out of your salary.

  Max: I wish you hadn’t mentioned that, Chief. It’s a painful subject.

  Chief: Keep in contact, Max. And . . . bon voyage.

  Max: Will do, Chief. And thank you.

  Operator: Bon voyage, shoe.

  Max slipped his shoe back onto his foot, then started the engine of the car and turned it out into traffic.

  “Can you find the pier this time?” Peaches asked.

  “It’s only a few blocks from here.”

  “But can you find it?”

  “I can smell a pier a mile away,” Max replied.

  Two hours later, after having asked directions several times, Max and Peaches arrived at the pier.

  “There’s an excursion boat,” Max said, pointing to a huge boat that had a sign saying “Excursion Boat” hanging over its side.

  “I hope your eyes are in better working order than your nose,” Peaches said.

  They parked, then walked to the boat. Standing on deck, leaning on the rail, was a plump man in uniform who looked a lot like a typical excursion boat captain.

  “Hail!” Max called to him.

  The man cupped an ear. “What’s that?”

  “I said, ‘Hail!’,” Max replied. “I was hailing you.”

  “Oh. Hail to you, too.”

  “Where are you bound?” Max called.

  “Around the middle,” the man replied. “I wear a corset to keep my tummy in.”

  “What I mean is, where does your boat go?”

  �
��Same as most boats—on the water!”

  “On the water to New York?” Max asked.

  “New York, Moscow and Peking,” the man replied.

  Max turned to Peaches. “I think this is the boat we want,” he said.

  They went aboard.

  “How-do-you-do,” Max said to the man. “I’m Max Smart, and this is Peaches Twelvetrees.”

  “Jus’ call me Cap’n Andy,” the man beamed.

  “All right, Captain. Now—”

  “Cap’n,” the Cap’n corrected.

  “Oh . . . yes, Cap’n. Well, Cap’n, we’re interested in getting to New York. We’ll decide about Moscow and Peking later. Can you accommodate us?”

  “Do better’ll that,” the Cap’n replied. “I can take you there.”

  “Fine. Now, do you have a cabin?”

  “I’m the Cap’n.”

  “No, cabin—c-a-b-i-n. Cabin.”

  “Sure. Got a whole boatload of ’em. Matter of fact, you can have the Cap’n’s cabin.”

  “The Cap’n’s cabin? Won’t you be needing that yourself?”

  “I spend all my time on the bridge,” the Cap’n replied.

  “I see. Steering the boat?”

  “No, watchin’ the cars drive by underneath.”

  “Let’s take a look at that cabin,” Max said warily.

  “Right this way.”

  The Cap’n led them along the deck, then stopped at a door and opened it and gestured them inside.

  “Very nice,” Max said, looking around. He turned back to the Cap’n. “About how long will it take us to get to New York?” he asked.

  “At the rate we’ll travel, until Dooms Day!” the Cap’n replied.

  “Noman!” Peaches shrieked.

  Cap’n Andy whipped out a pistol and pointed it at them. “Guess who!” he grinned evilly.

  “Peaches already identified you,” Max pointed out.

  “Then let’s get down to business,” Noman said. “Hand over the Plan!”

  “As you should know by now, we’d rather die first,” Max replied.

  “Then so be it!” Noman said. “In one hour, this boat will leave the pier. You two and me—and, oh yes, one other passenger—are the only ones on board. When the boat reaches the ocean, I’ll pull the plug in the bottom and it will sink!”

  “The boat or the plug?” Max asked.